There is something wildly appropriate about the meltdown the Trump administration is suffering right now, an almost super-natural alignment of cosmic forces, forces of nature, man-made laws and treasured customs.
In short, Spring is happening.
We have, on one hand, the annual cycle of re-birth, observed by religions and marked by farmers as the time to get out and begin their cycle of planting and growing and harvesting.
We have on the other hand changing weather patterns, a decade-long progression of reports that each year is hotter than the one before, and the one before set a new world-wide record for temperatures.
We have the breaking of traditions - from President Trump not going to a Washington Correspondent’s Dinner to Congress refusing to hold hearings on an outgoing president’s choice for Supreme Court. And creating new traditions, like getting out of Washington every weekend to go to Florida. And, not once visiting Disney World.
Then there is the re-birth of a new Congress making new promises to do the things its members promised they would do when they ran for their job, and - within a few weeks - announcing quietly that most of those things can’t be done. It’s a tradition almost as old as Congress itself.
Man and Nature going through vast and powerful changes which, nonetheless, are predictable and regular and still awe-inspiring, although Washington these days is more on the “shock and awe” side of the coin.
Now is the time to take a step back, and realize that when you look at the Trump Administration what you see is really just a reflection of what most red-blooded American males - and some females - go through every Spring.
Baseball. Pitchers and catchers reporting, and - a week or two later - the rest of the team showing up for a couple of months of Spring training.
For most fans - let’s exclude the World Series winning Cubs fans, who have an understandably different attitude - it is a time of wonder and joy and promise. Everything looks good. Everyone is healthy. All the phenoms have unlimited potential. All the returning players are in better shape than expected. And, they’re playing on wonderful green fields under clear blue skies with temperatures in the 80’s.
Joy, unlimited. Just like politics. We won. Things will be great. Let’s get started. And, they bring in the new team, which is usually made up of returning players and new people with unlimited potential.
Then, just like baseball, everything looks great. The sun shines. People applaud. The attitude in the locker room is just wonderful. Well, OK, maybe someone remembers a grudge from last year or a bad call by some umpire, but mostly things look really good. Every team expects this year to be better than the year before - just like everyone in the new administration expects their years in office will be much better than the record of their predecessor.
Then, some player gets arrested for taking part in a drunken brawl. Or someone pulls a hamstring. After a few weeks of inter-squad practice, the Grapefruit League games begin for real, as squads or half-squads go out across Florida and Arizona to meet and match and practice, over and over again, the art of hitting a ball and catching a ball and moving just a few inches to the left because of the way a batter is changing his stance.
And then, things start to happen. Usually, nothing good. Someone twists an ankle sliding into second base. A pitcher feels a vague pain in his shoulder, the one that needed two cortisone shots during the last six weeks of the regular season, when the team was fighting for the last play-off spot in their division. There’s trouble in the clubhouse. And the coach quietly wishes he could get out of Florida and check out the AA team’s players.
Do we really need to spell it all out in political terms? Well, there’s a Coach in the White House who doesn’t admit his team has any problems, and who blames all his mistakes on someone else. He can’t get the owners to hire the assistant coaches he needs, and hasn’t even begun to stock up his farm team.
Meanwhile, the family that took over ownership of the team is badly divided between getting results now and overpaying and holding out because some other city is talking about building a new stadium. (Private funds for new infrastructure, anyone?).
And, in a couple of months the real season begins. About the same time that Congress will starting fighting over the next federal budget. And after a few months of noise and rising hopes and crushed dreams, the team that took the field looking so good will have slipped into mediocrity, and the goal will be to win as many games as last year.
We won’t even mention all the promising young players who get dropped as the team cuts back to the number of players actually allowed by baseball. Or the older players who had hoped to get in just one more year of play.
Or the promising political stars who hoped to ride this particular political revolution into a lifetime career. All they have to do is wait a year to run for the House of Representatives again and tell their voters all that they have accomplished.
Look, there are no camels wandering around the Mall. And, there are no refugees in our town. Just a very busy draft board. Hey, none of the candidates ever said we would need one of those things again!